<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Somehow, we both keep ending up here. by P_atricapillus</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24518206">Somehow, we both keep ending up here.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/P_atricapillus/pseuds/P_atricapillus'>P_atricapillus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual mild sexual content, Harry loves his friends, Hermione is actually the best, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Illustrations, Light Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Post-War, Ron turns into his mother, Slow Burn, The Burrow (Harry Potter), rating may be changed later</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:07:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24518206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/P_atricapillus/pseuds/P_atricapillus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter somewhat reluctantly returns to Hogwarts after the war to finish his schooling. It's more difficult than he imagines to find routine again, faced with the realities of living in the space where so many died and so many things went terribly wrong. With a hefty amount of therapy, a lot of aimless wandering, and a redefining of several relationships, Harry does manage to begin to find a new normal, though that normal is somehow no less complicated than his life was before. </p>
<p>(Or: Harry needs to figure out who he is without the war and his destiny motivating him, and so does Draco Malfoy. Somehow, they end up doing it together.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter &amp; Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue: The start of everything after the end of it all</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>While not the first fic I've written, the first one I'm posting and the first one that has ever gotten so long. I'll likely have no regular update schedule, but I've got quite a bit written and more planned to come. Un-beta'd, so forgive my typos!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry Potter stood outside the Burrow, watching the stars slowly come into view as the light faded over the horizon. A chill seeped into the air, and the cold breeze cooled the still stinging burns on his arm, and made a shiver go down his spine. He stood and watched the stars until looking up started to make him dizzy, listening to the sounds of nocturnal animals beginning to awake and the rustling of grass in the wind. When he could no longer look up for the vertigo, he closed his eyes and focused on the sounds and the smells of the fields, the way the grass and dirt smelled rich and earthy, the subtle flapping of wings as bats left their roosts and raced through the air after flying insects, and the hint of acrid smoke and ash that still was carried by the breeze, even now. Harry Potter stood there, alone in the night, swaying from the wind and the exhaustion that ate at him, the grief that made his thoughts swirl, and the euphoric relief that it was finally, finally over.</p>
<p>When a hand softly gripped his shoulder, he didn’t even have the energy left for his instincts to kick in and make him react. He didn’t jump, or reach for his wand, or pull away. He just opened his eyes with some effort, and looked over his shoulder into the face of Mrs. Weasly, who was still covered in grime and ash, and who still had wet tear tracks cutting through the layer of filth. She held him up silently when he crumpled, gripping his arm and his back in her arms and holding him as if she was afraid he was going to try to run away, or dissapear. Hazily, he thought perhaps she was afraid of just that, but he didn’t have a reason to do either anymore. So instead he let himself be guided inside, and laid down on a couch beside his friends who he now knew were his family.</p>
<p>The war was over, but there was still much to come. There would be funerals and hospital visits and trials and rebuilding, but for now, every person in the Burrow was settled down to finally sleep. They clustered on couches and chairs and under blankets on the floor so they could all be in the same room, and gripped each other's hands too tight, and said very little because there was not much to say. And so on the first night after the last battle, Harry Potter slept.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A once familiar place is no longer the same</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Back at Hogwarts, Harry is uncertain that he's made the right choice, or how he is going to manage living there again.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>The Great Hall was as beautiful as it had ever been. The ceiling showed the clear night sky above, and only a few wispy clouds moved swiftly by, covering up the stars for brief moments before they twinkled back into view. If one were to angle their head just right, glimmering lines could be seen connecting stars in constellations. Hundreds of candles floated above, casting warm light down upon the rows and rows of students seated in black robes at their house tables. A swarm of fidgety, nervous first years stood in the middle of the room, some gazing in awe at the room around them, others fixing their eyes stubbornly forward, determined not to show their amazement so openly. </p><p>At the front of the room, a bellowing voice declared, “HUFFLEPUFF!” and there was a smattering of applause and happy cheering. Harry pulled his eyes back into focus to watch a young girl bounding down towards the Hufflepuff table and bowling happily into the arms of a girl who must have been her older sister. McGonagall called another name which Harry heard and immediately forgot, and he watched while she placed the sorting hat on the young student’s head. The hat barely touched the boy’s head before deciding, “RAVENCLAW!” Harry tuned out again while the boy started nervously for the Ravenclaw table. Around the Great Hall he could see a smattering of eighth-year students, all generally sitting in clusters at the backs of their house tables. Harry knew each one had received a letter from McGonagall just as he had, offering that they could repeat their seventh year fully or attend a smaller class load focusing on studying for their NEWTS, and Harry had noted upon their arrival that most students had returned. The Slytherin table was the only one that was particularly sparse. Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, and Pansy Parkinson were among those who had come back to finish their schooling. The rest of the Slytherin House was depleted as well, as the current seventh years who had been sixth years during the war had thinned their ranks significantly. The few Slytherins who were there were clustered in groups of two or three, or alone, with wide stretches of emptiness between them.</p><p>Harry’s eyes focused on Malfoy, more out of habit than anything else. During the Malfoy trial Harry, McGonagall, and a few other professors from Hogwarts had testified on Draco’s behalf. The Wizengamot had ultimately agreed to allow Draco to return to Hogwarts to finish his education on the grounds that he would live at the school before the start of the school year to aid in the reconstruction of the castle. The brief time Harry and the rest of the eighth years had been at the castle before the rest of the students arrived revealed that Hogwarts barely showed its scars anymore. Only a few hallways were still closed off, and there were areas where new stone along the walls and floors was visible, but otherwise Hogwarts was largely the same. Across the room, Malfoy flipped a page of the book he had in front of him. He had not looked up once during the Sorting Ceremony, not even when a student joined Slytherin’s ranks. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear, and Harry observed that his hair was wavy and touched his ears now, so very unlike the rigidly tamed hair cut he had had in years past. It looked as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days and hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in longer. Despite that, his clothes were neatly pressed, and he looked as posh as ever in his eighth-year robes, which were charcoal grey to set them apart from the rest of students. </p><p>Hermione broke Harry’s focus when she hit him gently on the shoulder and looked pointedly at the front of the room. Harry looked up to see he had missed the rest of the sorting while he was staring at Malfoy, and McGonagall was addressing the hall before dinner. </p><p>“Again, I know that this year will be different for Hogwarts, but I hope that you will all find it within yourselves to embrace unity and forgiveness, and we may move forward with our lives in this more peaceful time.” Her eyes swept over the room, and the silence was heavy with the weight of her gaze. Harry glanced back over to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was still facing his book, but clearly not looking at it, listening intently to McGonnagall’s speech. After a pause, she continued. “There is much to make up for, and there is much to forgive. We all played a part in this war, and we must make peace with the decisions we made, and the decisions that others made as well. This is not an easy task I am asking of you, but I find that I trust that all of you will be able to accomplish this.” She paused and gave a knowing smirk at the audience of students. “Now, enough of all that. Let’s eat!” She twirled around towards the head table with a flourish of her robes, and the empty platters and bowls on all the tables filled at once. Gasps echoed through the hall from the surprised first-years, and the Hall filled at once with noise.</p><p>The food in front of them was the same as it always was for the first feast of the year. Plates were piled high with whole roasted chickens, a huge variety of steaming vegetables, different kinds of sausages and soups and pasta and rice. The Gryffindor eighth years all dug in with considerably less enthusiasm than they had in previous years. </p><p>Most of the Gryffindors who had survived the battle and the Snatchers had returned, and Harry was clustered at the back of the Gryffindor table with Hermione, Ron, Seamus, Dean, Neville, Ginny, and Pavarti. They each ate sparingly and then sat pushing their food round on their plates, except Ron, who was serving himself second helpings. Few words were exchanged, and though the Hall was filled with pleasant chatter, the silence surrounding their group felt oppressive. </p><p>After a few minutes, Neville finally broke through. “It’s rather strange, isn’t it?” he said, absently tapping his fork against the table. “Being back here, after everything that happened?”</p><p>Everyone nodded. Hermione took a sip of her water. “The last time I was here was right after the battle,” she said. Lost in their own memories, they all stared down at the table, each recalling the people they had lost, and the row upon row of white sheets that had covered the dead where they had laid in this very room. Ron put his fork down on the edge of his plate. </p><p>“Well I’m glad we’ve had a chance to come back,” Pavarti said. “Hogwarts is a wonderful place, it wouldn’t be right to remember it like that. It should be good.” Her face was twisted in grim determination, and Harry couldn’t help but admire her conviction.</p><p>“Yes,” Hermione said, nodding slightly. “And we have a chance to finish our NEWTS, go on to normal jobs and normal lives now. We’ve earned that, at least. It’s a fresh start, and a chance to remember this place for the good.”</p><p>They all murmured in agreement and began eating again, some of the awkwardness dissolved now that they had addressed their collective discomfort. Harry didn’t pick up his fork again, he just sipped his drink and picked at the skin around his fingernails while he listened and watched everyone around him. His eyes wandered back to the Slytherin table and Malfoy once again. Harry didn’t think that Malfoy had lifted his eyes from his book once the whole night, and he was not surprised when Malfoy left the Great Hall long before anyone else. He acted as if no one else was there while he strode out of the room, his shoes clicking against the stone floors. </p><p>“Harry? Earth to Harry,” Hermione waved her hand in front of his face, and Harry collected himself, turning towards her. </p><p>“Sorry, sorry, lost in thought,” he said, picking up his fork to push food around his plate again. </p><p>“You’ve been out of it all night, are you all right, mate?” Ron asked, leaning around Hermione to look Harry in the eye. </p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine, I just…” Harry paused, trying to figure out what to say, and his friends waited patiently. “I’m just wondering if I should have come back here. It’s been so long, and everything feels so strange now. It’s almost weirder seeing it all looking the same, like everyone’s forgotten. Maybe I should have taken that offer to go right to Auror training.”</p><p>Hermione put a comforting hand on his back. “Harry, we’ve talked about this before. I know it’s not going to be easy, but you’ll have more options if you take your NEWTS. And besides, don’t you think you deserve some peacefulness after the war? Instead of going right into Auror training and all the stress and the danger that comes with?”</p><p>Harry thought to himself that it was the peacefulness that made him feel the most on edge these days, but aloud he said, “I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry, you were saying something before, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”</p><p>Hermione shook her head. “Don’t apologize, it was nothing important. We were just comparing schedules, is all.” </p><p>With that, the group launched into familiar territory, comparing schedules and classloads, discussing professors, studying, and plans after graduation. The conversation drifted between topics, from their new dormitories, to Neville’s Independent Study with Sprout, which had just been approved, and to Quidditch tryouts, which Ginny had high hopes for. They all left for the common room before the prefects would lead the first years there to get ahead of the crowd and get settled into their new rooms. The eighth years were occupying an old wing of the Gryffindor dormitories which had previously been closed off after enrollment dropped, but had been reopened to accommodate the returning students. Harry climbed the steps with Neville, Ron, Seamus, and Dean, and he dragged his trunk to the bed that was set evenly between the door and the window, instinct still telling him to take the bed farthest from any point of entry. </p><p>They all turned in rather quickly after doing some initial unpacking. There would be no classes the next day while the first years were given tours and introductions, and so there would be plenty of time to unpack later, and they were all tired from the long day of travelling. When Harry had said goodnight and pulled the curtains around his bed closed and fell to his pillow, he felt exhausted, but sleep did not come easily. The snoring surrounding him on all sides was nothing he wasn’t used to and was not to blame for his wakefulness. Each time sleep tugged at his mind alarms went off in Harry’s brain, and he awoke with a sick lurch, the memories of the prying fingers of Legilimency fresh in his mind now that he was back inside Hogwarts. He was accustomed now to his insomnia, but the paranoia about Legilimency was not a common subject for his nightmares. There was something about the familiar old four poster beds that was bringing his mind back to those times when the dreams first started, before he really understood them and they were steeped in as much confusion as they were fear. Harry felt nauseated and restless with fear.</p><p>He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to ward his mind with Occlumency, sweating with the effort of separating and guardian each of the layers of his thoughts. <em> This is stupid, </em> Harry thought, frustrated with himself. <em> There’s no one here trying to get in your head, quit putting this much effort into it. </em>He wished that someone else was awake. He wished he could wander the grounds, but with the extra security around the castle there was no way he would get out without being caught. Instead, he settled for forcing himself into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of pale, bluish hands grabbing for his head.</p><p> </p><p>The next morning Ron and Hermione convinced Harry that he should go to breakfast, despite his protests that he wasn’t feeling well. “That’s exactly why you should come. You barely ate last night, Harry, you probably just need food,” Hermione had said, pulling gently at his arm. Ron just commented that he looked “bloody awful,” and agreed with Hermione that a spot of breakfast would perk him up. In the end he had acquiesced and thrown on a wrinkly t-shirt and some jeans, then pulled on his new grey robes to cover his muggle clothing.  </p><p>The Great Hall was bustling with activity, and the trio took seats next to Neville, who greeted them warmly. Hermione put a bowl of oatmeal in front of Harry before he could protest, and Ron passed him a honey jar, looking sympathetic. </p><p>Ginny glanced at Harry from down the table. “Still not eating well?” she commented. </p><p>“Not feeling great,” Harry answered. She nodded and turned away, giving her attention back to the sixth year next to her. Harry wished for a moment that breaking up had not become synonymous with barely talking, but he supposed Ginny had every right to be a little distant after he had left her. It had certainly made living at the Weasley’s for the summer rather awkward. </p><p>A series of gasps and low shouts from the first years echoed through the hall as the air was filled with wingbeats, and owls streamed in through the windows. Newspapers, journals, letters, and packages dropped onto tables and laps, and in some cases into food. Harry chuckled when a large package dropped directly onto a first years lap, causing her to shriek in shock and then turn bright red with embarrassment when half the Great Hall turned to look. To his surprise, a letter fell onto Harry’s head while he watched the spectacle, and he grabbed it with practiced ease before it fell into his meal. The letter was unmistakably Hogwarts stationary, and a quick glance told Harry that every student in the Hall had received the same envelope. He opened it, and a smaller slip of paper slid out, which he put to the side to read after. The letter was written in Madam Pomfrey’s looping script, and read:</p><p> </p><p>All students are advised that Hogwarts Hospital wing now has a counseling and therapy office, which is headed by Madam Siya Batra. Madam Batra is a skilled Healer and has made great progress in the fields of Magical Healing for trauma, post-traumatic stress, and other ailments associated with the mind. Any and all students are encouraged to schedule an appointment with Madam Batra for any reason they may be needing help. </p><p> </p><p>Signed, </p><p>Madam Poppy Pomfrey</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Harry put down the notice and picked up the smaller sheet of paper that had slipped out and groaned when he read it.</p><p>Neville looked up at him. “What is it?” he asked. </p><p>Harry leaned back, tossing the note on the table. “McGonagall is requiring me to schedule at least three appointments with Madam Batra,” he said. </p><p>Hermione tapped her letter on the table. “That’s probably not a bad thing,” she said. “Lots of people meet with Healers for therapy, and most of them haven’t been through half of what you’ve been through.”</p><p>“I really don’t think I need it,” Harry said uncertainly. </p><p>Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. “Then just go to the three McGonagall is making you go to and then don’t schedule anymore. It can’t hurt.”</p><p>Harry wanted to protest. He’d heard that Magical Healing for mental health sometimes included Legilimency, and it made him more nervous than he wanted to admit. He looked at Ron for support, but he offered no more than an apologetic shrug that said, ‘She’s right, you know,’ so Harry went back to dejectedly eating his oatmeal.</p><p> </p><p>Classes began the following day. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all taking a full seventh-year course load, since they had missed the entirety of the previous year during the war. Some others who had been present at Hogwarts during the war were also retaking the entirety of seventh-year, since their occupation with Dumbledore's Army meant they had missed most of their classes, and many of the classes they did go to didn’t meet any of the standards for what they would need to know to pass their NEWTS.</p><p>Mondays brought only one class in the early afternoon for Harry, and when he gave up on sleeping again at 5:00am, he found that not having anything to do was quickly becoming maddening. He laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. Then he stared blankly at the same pages of a book and let the sentences enter his head and immediately leave it for thirty minutes. When Ron awoke, he gratefully went to breakfast with him and Hermione, and for a moment thought that maybe his restless anxiety would fade. But then Ron and Hermione went to their morning classes and all the other Gryffindors were busy and Harry found his mind racing again. </p><p><em> There is no danger here, </em> he kept reminding himself, but no matter what he did every corner seemed to contain a threat hidden within it. <em> The castle is safe, </em>he scolded himself again when a second year raced loudly down the steps and Harry found himself on his feet before he knew what was happening, wand in hand pointed at the terrified kid. “Sorry,” Harry said quickly, tucking his wand back into his pocket. The second year bolted out of the Common Room while Harry called, “Sorry!” at her retreating back again. He sighed loudly and flopped heavily into a chair. His back was to a window, and alarms sounded in his head, so he got up and moved to a chair that was in a corner where he could see everything, then he thought that was stupid and moved back to the first chair, where his rearranged all the items in his bag until lunch.</p><p>Class was not much better. Harry was unsurprised that Malfoy was in his class, considering he had also missed all of the previous year of school. Though Malfoy was exceptionally quiet and seemed intent on disappearing into his chair, Harry couldn’t concentrate. He was scolded more than once for staring out a window, and once when there was a loud explosion from an errant spell he leapt to his feet again, brandishing his wand and knocking his chair over before shamefully picking it up to sit back down, almost everyone in the class, the professor included, staring at him with alarm. The only person who didn’t look up was Malfoy, still studiously flipping through the pages of his textbook and practicing his wand movements as if nothing was happening at all.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>It was Ron who confronted Harry later that day, when they were sitting on their beds idly doing the little homework they’d gotten assigned that day. </p><p>“Are you feeling any better than you were yesterday?” he started.</p><p>Harry shrugged. “A bit, I guess,” he replied.</p><p>“You’ve been awful jumpy,” Ron said. He was tapping his quill against his parchment and avoiding eye contact. </p><p>Harry sighed heavily, slapping his quill down on the book in his lap. He was unsurprised that Ron had already heard about his outbursts from earlier in the day. Hogwarts was, after all, a tight-knit community, and Harry was, however reluctantly, a continuous topic of conversation among the students.</p><p> “Yes, I have been,” he admitted. Ron glanced up at him, then back down at his parchment, and began pressing the tip of his quill into his thumb the way he did when he was nervous or thinking hard. “I just, I -  ugh,” Harry continued, and then stopped again, at a loss for the right words. Ron waited patiently, still fiddling with his quill. “It’s been different, since we’ve been back at the castle. The last time I was here, I- I died, and so did a lot of people I cared about, and now being back has been… difficult. I mean, earlier today I was sitting in the common room and I moved chairs because I had my back to a window. I felt ridiculous, but I just couldn’t get it out of my head that I was in danger. That’s stupid, right? For all the nightmares and the paranoia to come back, there’s no reason for it, we figured all that out at the Burrow, and now it’s back and I don’t know why.” Harry stopped, feeling hopeless and suddenly very tired. </p><p>Ron chewed his lip on the bed next to him, sending Harry a worried glance while he thought. “Do you remember when my dad got attacked at the ministry, back in fifth year? And he was in hospital for a while, and had to take leave from work for a few months?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Harry said, wincing a little at the strength of the memory of the attack, and how small Mr Weasly had seemed while he was recovering. </p><p>“Well, while dad was home, he had a really hard time getting better. Not because of his injuries or anything, but because he kept having these awful nightmares, and he would start getting nervous anytime the kettle whistled, or at any other noise that sounded like hissing. So he saw a doctor, a Healer like Madam Batra, and got therapy. And it worked. It took a long time, and it’s still not perfect, but it worked.” Ron looked up, catching Harry’s eye. “Hermione and I are going to see her too. We didn’t get told to, but I think it will help. With what we went through last year, and especially you, I think we’ll all need it. No shame in it, it’s just our bodies trying to protect us and thinking that since we’re here, the battle’s still happening. It would happen to anyone in our situation, you know? I think it’ll help you. Help all of us”</p><p>They sat in silence for a bit, both absorbing what Ron had just said. Over the summer, they had all had the nightmares, had all jumped every time a door slammed or a spell backfired. With each other’s support, they’d all slowly learned to think of the Burrow as somewhere safe again. But Harry knew that for him, the feelings had never really stopped; he’d just gotten better at hiding them. Being back at the castle, where so much had happened and so much had gone wrong, was making it harder to deal with the fear that was always bubbling below the surface of his skin, ready to come out at the slightest hint of danger or reminder of the war. Ron was right. He didn’t know how to make that fear recede, and he would need to get help if he had any chance at passing his eighth year.</p><p>“You’re right,” Harry said, breaking the silence. Ron nodded once. “You know, I thought when he was dead everything would be happy. Like it was the first few months I was here, before we knew about Quirrell.”</p><p>Ron nodded. “Yeah. Me too. Mum always said that a war lives for a long time after it’s over, though. I suppose I should have listened to her.”</p><p>Harry hummed in agreement, thinking of the infinite wisdom and power he had learned Molly Weasley possessed. It was almost always a good idea to listen to her. </p><p>“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said, and he could feel appreciation for his friend swell in his chest. Ron had a very special way of getting right to the point, and he was grateful for that now. </p><p>“Anytime, mate. Now go to sleep, will you, I feel tired just looking at you,” Ron said, punctuating his last statement with a pillow lobbed directly at Harry’s head. </p><p>Harry caught the pillow and threw it right back at Ron, who barely managed to catch it and keep his ink from spilling all over his bed, and who protested the retaliation loudly while Harry grinned and rolled his eyes and pulled the curtains closed around his bed. He felt the impact of the pillow hitting the curtains again, and stuck his arm out to grab the pillow and whip it back in the vague direction of Ron’s laughter. “You’re the one who told me to go to sleep!” He shouted, laughing too despite himself. Ron ceased fire with one last chuckle before Harry heard his quill scratching on parchment again. Harry did not get much sleep, but between the comforting scratching of Ron’s quill nearby and the gentle rain that had started against the window, he managed to catch a few hours without a single nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Harry walked out of his Transfigurations classroom long after everyone else had left, after being chewed out again for napping during class. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, resolving to ask Hermione for her notes later so he could study and maybe actually catch up this time. For now, he just wanted to go back to his room and lie down for a bit. The previous night had been a rough one, and he’d spent most of it sitting awake staring at the embers of the fire, trying not to hope that Sirius’s face would emerge in the coals like it had so many years ago. He rounded a corner and was suddenly mere centimeters from square shoulders clad in grey eighth year robes, and thin arms in a crisp black dress shirt crossed across a narrow chest. Harry nearly fell backwards in his attempt to not run into Draco Malfoy, who was towering nearly a full head over Harry and glaring directly down at him. Harry absentmindedly wondered when the git had gotten so tall as he sidestepped to walk around him, muttering, “Sorry,” and staring at his feet. </p><p>“Potter,” Malfoy said, then trailed off. Harry stopped, staring at him, half curious and half dreading what Malfoy would have to say to him. He had to look up to inspect Malfoy’s face, which was as pale as ever, but there were deep circles beneath his eyes that were darker and more pronounced than Harry had ever seen them, and his cheeks were a blotchy red, like he had a fever. Harry noticed that he even had a few freckles on his nose and cheeks, and wondered if Malfoy had used glamors to cover them before. He seemed to be thinking, his brow furrowed and mouth twisted. Harry was about to give up and walk away when Malfoy stuck his  right hand out abruptly between them. “Truce?” he asked, then made a pained expression like it had come out a little more uncertain than he wanted. </p><p>Harry stared at Malfoy's hand, extended curtly towards him with all his fingers rigid, pale, and bloodless. He looked back at Malfoy’s face, and clearly saw that he was regretting the offer. Before he could change his mind, Harry took Malfoy’s cold hand into his own and gave it a single firm shake. “Truce,” he repeated. </p><p>Satisfied, Malfoy pulled his hand away, letting it hit against his thigh. He nodded once, even redder than he had been before, and stubbornly avoiding eye contact, before stalking off down the hall and out of sight around a corner, robes billowing behind him. </p><p>Harry stood in the now empty hall for a moment, staring at the corner where Malfoy had disappeared. <em> Well, that was…odd, </em> he thought as he started walking again. Strange as the interaction had been, Harry couldn’t help but feel glad that whatever grudges he and Malfoy still had could be put aside. Harry had saved his life after all, and he was frankly too exhausted to maintain that old hatred any longer. <em> One less thing to worry about, I suppose, </em>he thought, and then put the whole thing out of his head as he entered the Common Room. He already had enough to worry about for the afternoon, as in 30 short minutes he was scheduled to have his first appointment with Madam Batra. </p><p>It had taken McGonagall actually scheduling his first appointment for him and handing him the appointment card as he was leaving lunch two days ago to get him to finally concede to go. It wasn’t that he had changed his mind on what he and Ron had discussed, or that he’d decided he didn’t think she could help, but the uncertainty of the whole thing that had kept him from scheduling the appointment himself. Harry simply did not know what therapy looked like in the wizarding world. In fact, he had only a hazy idea of what it looked like in the Muggle world too, and the small amount he did know led to thoughts of lying on an uncomfortable couch while someone asked prying questions about things like his childhood or his sexual desires. That idea was uncomfortable enough without the nagging reminder that Legilimency might also be at play in the case of a magical healer. </p><p>So it was with sweaty palms and a lot of dallying and Hermione’s firm insistence that he finally arrived at the Hospital Wing and was pointed by Madam Pomfrey to a small room in the very back of the wing, with a new table set outside of it with a few chairs to act as a waiting area. Harry sat at the very edge of one of the chairs, wiping his palms on his pants, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. Even with all his protesting and procrastination he was still there a few minutes early, and he waited anxiously for the seconds to pass while gazing out the window and trying to focus on anything other than the rhythm of his heart, which was beating too hard. </p><p>When the door to the little office opened, Harry nearly jumped out of his seat. A surprisingly young, petite woman with dark skin and short hair walked out, and smiled warmly at Harry when she saw him sitting at the little table.</p><p>“You must be Harry Potter,” she said. She had a faint, but pleasant Indian accent. She extended her hand, and Harry shook it automatically. “It’s a pleasure to meet you! I am Madam Siya Batra.”</p><p>“Pleasure,” Harry managed to reply, hoping that his palms weren’t as sweaty as they felt. </p><p>She grinned at him, seemingly unaffected by what must have been a rather damp handshake from Harry. “Why don’t you come in, and we can get acquainted?” She said, gesturing into her office. Harry dutifully followed her through the door, and was surprised to find a rather homey looking office, with a wooden desk in the back with some filing cabinets, and a loveseat and an armchair across from each other at a dark brown coffee table nearer to the door. The room was lit pleasantly with electric lamps, something rare to see in Hogwarts, and there was an intricate red and brown rug on the floor, and several paintings on the wall, along with a photographic print of mosaics from what looked to be the walls of a mosque or temple. Overall the room felt cosy and personal, not at all clinical or imposing like Harry had assumed. Madam Batra settled into the armchair, and gestured for Harry to take the loveseat. </p><p>“How are you doing today, Harry?” she asked as he settled and she readied some paperwork on a clipboard, the back of which was covered in stickers. </p><p>“Alright,” Harry answered. “A little tired, I suppose.”</p><p>“I’ve been hearing that from a lot of people today! Seems like classes are keeping everyone busy, yes?” She said conversationally, rifling through her papers. </p><p>“Yes, I suppose so,” Harry agreed, fidgeting in his seat.</p><p>Madam Batra pulled a sheet of paper out of her stack with an “Aha!” and clipped it studiously to her clipboard. “I hope you don’t mind getting right into business. I’ll need to start with a bit of medical history, would you like to fill out the paperwork yourself, or would you like to run through the questions together? It shouldn’t take long.”</p><p>“We can do them aloud, that’s fine,” Harry said, glad to avoid having to sit in silence while he filled out the paperwork and Madam Batra presumably just watched or pretended to be busy. </p><p>“Wonderful!” Madam Batra said. She pulled a pair of large octagonal glasses out of her shirt pocket, and launched into a barrage of questions, most of which were general medical history questions, and some involving his magic and wand. As Harry answered, he felt himself relax slightly, finding Madam Batra to be nothing of what he expected. She was cheerful, but Harry got the distinct impression that it was not forced, and rather that it was just the way she was. She was also patient and well spoken, clarifying anything Harry didn’t understand and repeating anything he needed repeated with no evidence of hesitation or annoyance. Harry had the distinct impression that she was a very kind person. </p><p>When they were done, she thanked him and tucked away her paperwork, settling her elbows on her knees and leaning towards him. “Now, it is my understanding that you were asked to schedule an appointment, and that you haven't necessarily chosen to be here. So before we begin delving into anything, I’d like to talk about what you want from this experience. Do you have any goals you would like to meet, or anything specific you’d like to talk about? And is there anything that you are concerned about for these sessions?”</p><p>She waited patiently while Harry tried very hard not to start picking at the skin around his fingernails. “Um, well, I’ve been having trouble sleeping, having nightmares and stuff, so I guess I’d like to figure that out. I’m not sure what I want to talk about, I’m not sure what would be useful, I guess?” Harry paused, and Madam Batra continued waiting patiently for him to continue, seeming to sense that he wasn’t finished. “I do have some concerns, I suppose,” he finally admitted, and then trailed off. </p><p>“Of course,” Madam Batra said, seeing that he needed a bit of extra prodding. “It’s very common to have concerns about beginning therapy, especially when you did not necessarily make the choice to begin sessions on your own. Is there anything specific you’d like me to keep in mind now?”</p><p>Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah, I just, I’m not sure if this really applies, but I’ve heard that sometimes wizarding therapists will use Legilimency. And I don’t know if you do or if that’s true or anything, but I really, really don’t want to do that…” He trailed off again, glancing up briefly to meet Madam Batra’s eyes. </p><p>“Of course, I would never use Legilimency on anyone who did not explicitly give permission. It is true that many magical therapists use Legilimency as a part of the therapy process, and for certain conditions and situations it can be very helpful, but it is not used in every case. I have both a wizarding and muggle license, so though magic is useful in many cases, I don’t find it necessary.”</p><p>Harry’s surprise prompted him to speak before he thought. “You have a muggle license as well?” He asked, curious. </p><p>“Yes,” Madam Batra said, her easy smile returning. “I am muggle-born, and my mother is a psychologist. I have always found that both the muggle and wizarding worlds have very different, but equally valuable methodologies and studies. It simply made sense to me to study both as a witch, and as a muggle.”</p><p>“That makes sense, yeah,” Harry agreed. It certainly explained the electric lights and the muggle photograph on the wall. </p><p>“Is there anything else?” she prompted again.</p><p>“Yes, one thing,” Harry said, his resolve slightly strengthened. “I don’t want to talk about the Dursleys. They’re my aunt and uncle, who I lived with. I don’t want to talk about them. Or, I don’t think I’m ready to, not yet. Maybe I will be sometime, but not now.”</p><p>“Of course,” Madam Batra said immediately. “It’s important that you feel ready to talk about anything we discuss here. Obviously some of the topics we discuss will be uncomfortable or may make you feel vulnerable, but that’s different from not being ready. We will not bring up the subject until you are ready to broach it yourself.”</p><p>Harry felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, yeah, that sounds okay, then.”</p><p>“Well then, we still have a good amount of time left today, do you know what you’d like to start with? We could talk about your nightmares, perhaps.”</p><p>Harry nodded, then opened his mouth to speak, closed it again to think, and then finally said, “I think there’s a lot of context necessary to understand them, but I’m not sure where to start,” he admitted. </p><p>Madam Batra tilted her head and looked at him for a moment, considering something. “Harry,” she said, “have you ever told the whole story to someone? Everything that happened with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, from the very beginning in your first year here at Hogwarts?”</p><p>Harry thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “I’ve told bits and pieces to people, parts that were necessary, but not everything.”</p><p>“Well, then maybe it would be good to start from the beginning. Would you like to tell me your story, Harry?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Harry said, only needing a moment to decide. “Seems as good a place as any.”</p><p>And so Harry started at the beginning. </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>The castle still felt odd. No matter what Harry did, the memories of the battle and all the awful things that had happened overtook the memories of all the days he had spent in classes, and the nights that he had spent up late goofing off with his housemates. All those moments paled in comparison to the deaths and horrors which took place in the same spaces. Harry was now weeks into the school year, four sessions in with Madam Batra, and still he could not find a routine that felt like the ones he had developed over his previous six years at Hogwarts. </p><p>He attended all his classes, and he saw Madam Batra twice a week on the same days at the same times. Hermione and Ron made sure he went to most meals, and the three of them established weekly study nights again. And yet even with all those landmarks in his week, Harry had no idea what to do with his time. Essays were finished more last minute than he had ever written them, the new spells he was learning went unpracticed, and yet Harry still could not say what he was doing with all the time he should have had to do his schoolwork. It felt as if it all just slipped away before he had a chance to do anything about it. </p><p>It was late on a Saturday afternoon that Harry finally decided to give in to his restless energy and go about doing some proper wandering. Ron and Hermione were having a date night, and Harry had been forced to agree that though the trio was largely inseparable, he could not always play the third wheel. Neville was in the greenhouse and likely would be there long past dark and Seamus and Dean were… well, Harry felt he would have been a third wheel for whatever they were up to that afternoon too. Ginny was not an option, not since they had broken up, and that left very few people that Harry could turn to for company, and none he particularly wanted to hang out with at that moment. He thought that the person he really wanted to see most was Luna, but she was not a person who was easily found.</p><p>As Harry put away his Charms textbook and the homework he had been actively not doing for the past several hours, he wondered what Luna would say about his restlessness and inability to find routine. Generally, when he was experiencing something he couldn’t understand, Luna would pop up to offer some wisdom which in the moment seemed strange, but would eventually prove to be incredibly accurate. He tried to think of what advice she might have for him as he left the common room and began to wander, taking turns at random intervals down hallways and purposefully choosing pathways and corridors that he did not normally frequent. He had the Marauder's Map in his pocket to help him find his way back if he truly got lost, but deliberately did not take it out now, choosing instead to go wherever his whims took him. The corridors wound about and took him to far corners of the castle, to places he had never been and places he hadn’t been for many years. For the first time in a long time, Harry really looked at the castle. He took in the scars from the battle, but also the castle itself. He marvelled at the enormity of the building, the way its interior made little sense and yet became welcoming and easily navigable for the new students. He remembered the way that he had felt as a first year; first nervous and afraid of the task of learning all the ins and outs of such an odd building, and then joyful in finding that the castle, in its own way, welcomed him, and helped him find the places he needed. </p><p>A sharp turn suddenly took Harry to a spot that he recognized. It was a short hall, lined on one side with doors that got progressively smaller and smaller, until the last one was so small it would have been difficult for Harry to even fit his hand through it. The strange and largely unused hall was one of the common hiding spots for students looking to skip class or get away from the public common rooms, especially for younger students who could fit through the little door. Harry wondered if all the hiding holes and secret passageways that he knew of in the castle still existed. Some of them had been filled in or had their magic broken by the Death Eaters, and some had been irreparably damaged during the battle, but he hoped that some still existed. It had been a rite of passage as first and second years to learn about the passageways that would let you traverse half the castle in a few short steps, or would bring you to an alcove or unused storage closet where students could sneak away outside of the prying eyes of professors and prefects. </p><p>Harry curiously walked over to the door he thought was the right one, which came up to be just above his knee. He crouched down and tried the knob, but the door didn’t budge, as he expected. So he felt along the stones around the door until he felt one with a slightly smoother texture than the others, and he pressed his palm hard onto the surface of the stone. Sure enough, the latch on the little door popped open, and when Harry crouched down and looked through, the room beyond was still there, dusty and small with miniature windows to match the miniature door, just like it had been when he and Ron had found it their second year. Something on the floor caught Harry’s eye, and he reached out to pick up a pair of bird shaped earrings. They were extremely dusty, but they still perked up enough when Harry picked them up to peck at him and ruffle their little bronze feathers. </p><p>Harry would have bet anything that they were Luna’s, and that they had been sitting there in the little room for a few years, waiting to be found. He pocketed them and stood up in the hallway, deciding all at once to see what other secret passages and hallways he could find that were still functional. Perhaps there were more things to find. </p><p>Off on his quest, and fiddling with the tiny bird earrings in his pocket while he walked, Harry’s thoughts turned to Luna again. What would she say about his predicament? He felt a stranger in a place he had once known so well, and he couldn’t keep track of his days. He thought hard, trying to embody Luna’s mindset. Perhaps the castle felt unfamiliar because… it was not the same castle? Because it had changed so much? ‘No,’ Harry thought, ‘That’s too simple, too obvious. I need to think in loops, the way she does. See some connection there that isn’t so easy.’ Taking the winding turns through the castle with a more deliberate air now, Harry tried to think in metaphors and loops, as Luna would. ‘Maybe,’ he thought, ‘I can’t find my routine because there’s still something that my routine needs. Something I need to do this year that I don’t know about yet.’ Harry rolled one of the little bird earrings between his fingers, feeling the texture of the little feathers as it ruffled in his grasp. ‘Maybe,’ he thought again. </p><p>It was at this point that Harry realized that he wasn’t quite sure where the hidden classroom he was looking for was. He knew it was somewhere in this circle of corridors, but there was no way to tell which door. Putting his ideas about Luna’s thought patterns aside, he began testing each of the doors, carefully going up to each one, and gently kicking the stones nearest to the floor to the right of the doorframe three times. The first three doors he tried stayed firmly latched, but on the fourth, the door popped open with a soft click.</p><p>“Aha!” Harry said quietly aloud, joyful both in that he had found the door and that yet another familiar hiding place was still intact. He thrust open the door, and immediately froze, one hand on the door handle and the other instinctively reaching for his wand in his pocket.</p><p>A person was sitting on the floor, surrounded by books and parchment with a lap desk poised on their crossed legs. And this was not just any person, but was Draco Malfoy, who was currently eyeing Harry with a mixture of wariness and annoyance on his face. </p><p>Harry pulled his hand away from his wand quickly, suddenly and sickeningly reminded of a similar situation in which he had nearly killed Malfoy in a bathroom. “Oh, um,” he said eloquently. “Sorry, I was just, uh…” Harry was suddenly at a loss for words, unsure how to explain his little quest to find the still functional secret passages and hiding places and also unsure if he even should explain it to Malfoy.</p><p>Malfoy cut him off before he could continue, waving his hand in the air. “No, no, don’t worry about it,” he said in a tone that clearly suggested that Harry should not only worry about the intrusion, but also feel terribly guilty about it. Malfoy grabbed his wand and promptly vanished his lap desk and began levitating all his books and parchment into his bag. “It’s fine. I’ll leave. Wouldn’t want to be getting in the way,” he said, pointedly busying himself with his things and not looking towards Harry at all. </p><p>“No, no no,” Harry said immediately. “I’m not staying, I was just looking to see if… Doesn’t matter, point is, I can go, I didn’t mean to interrupt, or intrude or anything.” Malfoy just kept collecting his things, capping his ink bottle with a flourish and standing up with his bag slung over his shoulder. “Really, Malfoy, I’m not staying here, you don’t need to leave. I’m really sorry for intruding,” Harry said, trying very hard to make his words sound genuine.</p><p>Malfoy just continued ignoring him, walking briskly towards the door. “No matter, Potter,” he said. “I’ll find another space to study in. Like I said, I wouldn’t want to be in the way.”</p><p>Harry watched helplessly as Malfoy strode past him, still pointedly avoiding eye contact. He had gone a bit red and blotchy in the face like he had been when he had offered Harry the truce, but he walked with his back straight and shoulders back, the reddening of his face the only sign of discomfort or any emotion at all that he showed. He retreated around the corner, with no flourish of robes this time, but the click of his shoes echoing along the corridor. </p><p>“Alright, bye then, I suppose,” Harry said quietly to the empty hall. He shut the door to the empty classroom, and after staring at the door for a few moments, continued to the next passageway he hoped to find.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Again, please forgive any typos! Also please enjoy my “Draco used to wear a ton of glamours to make his skin and hair look nice but now he doesn’t bother” headcannon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Finding something new and odd</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things begin to change for the better.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  
</p><p>
  <span>Monday, Harry found Malfoy in a storage closet, using an overturned bucket as a stool and meticulously transfiguring an ornate candlestick into a small tree while using his free hand to scratch notes onto a scrap of parchment. Harry opened the narrow door and Malfoy started, knocking over his candlestick which had a few small branches growing from it, the leaves of which immediately withered and died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, hello,” Harry said, unable to think of anything else to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy gave what must have been the world's most long suffering sigh in response. “Hello,” he said curtly, and picked up the fallen candlestick with a scowl, shaking some of the dry leaves off. The intricate carvings had frozen halfway through the process of turning into bark, giving it an unpleasant, distorted look. He dragged his hand through his hair, mussing it so it stuck up at odd angles from his forehead and sighed again. “Well, I suppose I’ll be off then,” Malfoy concluded, beginning to gather his things in his bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Harry said, feeling at once like an absolute wanker. “I’m not staying here, you don’t have to leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy raised a single eyebrow, but continued to stuff his things into his bag. “Then what are you doing, hm?” He asked, seeming to take in for the first time that Harry was not carrying a bag or much of anything at all. “Just finding satisfaction in being able to bother me every moment of the day now?” he sniffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Harry said firmly. “I… I’ve been looking for all the passages and rooms I can think of that might have been destroyed,” he finally admitted, “Just to see if they’re still there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy continued staring at him with that one raised eyebrow, unconvinced. Harry could feel his face heating up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, it’s just something to do, alright? I needed something to fill the time,” Harry defended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah yes, because we all know schoolwork is just a casual hobby of yours, certainly not something that would adequately fill your time,” Malfoy scoffed, rolling his eyes. He elbowed his way past Harry in the doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I meant,” Harry said at his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy seemed to slow for a moment, but didn’t stop walking. “I know,” he said, and then he was gone, round the corner and out of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets. He gave the overturned bucket a kick, just for good measure, and then left as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Tuesday, Harry could not find Malfoy anywhere. His hands twitched on the map, urging him to check it, but he resisted. He was not wandering around to </span>
  <em>
    <span>find Malfoy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was looking for secret passages and alcoves, dammit. Harry very firmly did not care if he found Malfoy or not, it was just that he had found him twice now before and he did not want to give Malfoy the satisfaction of having been not found. If he was even out there at all, and not cozied up somewhere in the Slytherin common room, or as cozied up in a place that was completely underwater as one could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stomped through the tower he was climbing to the top of, pausing in the small attic room at the top to breathe the early fall air drifting in through the small window. The little attic was rarely used as far as Harry knew, as it was claustrophobically small and rather full of spiders, but it offered a beautiful view of the lake and the sky above, so he was glad it had survived the takeover of Hogwarts and the battle. A sense of calm washed over him as he stood, half leaning out the window, watching the reflection of the stars on the surface of the lake dance slightly. For once, his mind was completely clear of thoughts, and Harry was blissfully still for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The peace ended when the slight drizzle blowing in the window abruptly turned to a soaking downpour, and Harry scrambled down the ladder out of the attic space, spluttering and waving his arms around to rid himself of the cobwebs and spiders that had been unwittingly dragged along in his escape. Once he was sure he was spider free, Harry took the map out of his pocket and made note that the attic was still there. As he was folding it up to put it away, a single pair of footprints caught his attention at the base of the tower he was in, in an unused classroom. The name “Draco Malfoy” was written below the footprints, and they didn’t seem to be moving from the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harry thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>at this point he’s on my way back, so I may as well. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He set off down the stairwell, leaving drips of rainwater along his path as he strode quickly downwards, aware that it was nearly curfew and Malfoy was not likely to be staying out after hours, considering he was on probation already. Sure enough, when Harry got to the classroom there was a strip of golden firelight creeping out underneath the door, and he could hear papers shuffling within. Harry opened the door quickly, and was rewarded with Malfoy jumping and making a small noise of surprise before processing that the intruder was Harry, who was trying not to grin too victoriously at finding and surprising him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hullo,” Harry said cheerily, idly looking around at the paper packets of potions ingredients and herbs that Malfoy had spread around him on the floor in neatly sorted piles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin,” Malfoy swore. He heaved a sigh at Harry. “Potter, I swear, do you simply forget that you are a wizard sometimes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry furrowed his brow, confused. “What are you talking about?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy just rolled his eyes and pointed his wand directly at Harry’s head. Before Harry had a chance to process this, Malfoy muttered, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Assicodom</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” and Harry was struck with the sudden sensation of being dry. The spell left a bit of a chill on his skin, and he shook his head, feeling his now frizzy hair bounce with the movement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thanks, I guess,” he said, watching as Malfoy neatly stored away the last of the paper packets in leather pouches and then sorted those into his usual bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drying charms are not difficult, Potter, a third year can do them with proficiency. It would do you good to remember that you do, in fact, have the ability to perform magic for more purposes than just fighting,” Malfoy retorted. Before Harry had a chance to reply, he added, “Find any interesting secret passages?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the fact that Malfoy seemed more interested in turning the conversation away from the jab he had thrown than he was in anything Harry had done that day, Harry answered and let the conversation move past the insult. “The attic, at the top of this tower, actually. Still there, still full of spiders,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy wrinkled his nose and stood, brushing off his trousers. “Nice view of the lake from that window, though I never cared for the spiders,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither did Ron,” Harry snorted, remembering the first time the trio had visited the attic, and Ron had refused to go in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least there is one thing that Weasley is correct on,” Malfoy said, and de-luminated the lamps in the room with a swish of his wand, plunging them into blueish darkness. “Best get back before curfew,” he commented, breezing past Harry and through the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Harry agreed, and in a moment Malfoy was gone, disappeared down the dim hallway and through the corridors presumably towards his dormitory. Harry pulled out the Marauders Map and watched the footsteps labelled “Draco Malfoy” drift through the castle, true on their path to the Slytherin common room. Harry tucked the map away and headed back to his own common room, looking forward to the warmth of the fire that could ease the bite of the rainwater and the drying charm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wednesday was study night, and though Harry’s nightly evening wandering was helping with his insomnia, it was not helping his homework situation. As such, he was grateful that his friends were willing to take the night to sit and make sure they all were caught up with what they needed to catch up on. He was especially grateful that Hermione, who finished early with her work as usual, allowed Harry to use her notes and explained the concepts he’d slept through in class. He was still not back on every professor’s good side, but most of them had stopped eyeing him with that peculiar look of pity that he hated so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did check the map, just once while he was retrieving a notebook from his trunk, just to see. A quick scan showed that Malfoy was not out in some hidden corner of the castle, but in fact in the library, with Millicent Bullstrode. Harry was quietly victorious that Malfoy would not get the satisfaction of thinking he had found a successful hiding place, and went back to his studying without further distraction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thursday, Harry woke up feeling distinctly unrested and was cross for the entire day. He’d had a Finnegan-esque screw-up in charms that resulted in his eyebrows being singed, and he’d fallen asleep at the table in the great hall which had lead to some friendly ribbing from his classmates that on any other day would have been funny, but that day only made him more annoyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That evening when Harry set out for his evening wandering, he did so with a feverish energy that he didn’t usually have, and marked off all the passageways in a whole wing of the castle that he wanted to check. Harry channeled his frustration into throwing open doors and unlocking elaborate locks and charms for hours, until, finally exhausted, he began to meander his way back to the common room. In truth he didn’t feel any better, but he was at very least tired enough that he thought he could sleep, and probably could also muster the appropriate amount of shame to apologize for snapping at Dean earlier in the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry dragged his knuckles lightly against the wall as he walked, stewing in the frustrations of his day and the disappointment and loss he felt when he found the passageway he used to take to get to potions every day was completely blocked off. As he rounded a corner, he heard a soft noise and came to an abrupt halt. He was standing near the narrow entryway to a passage that was not so much secret as it was completely useless, as it was incredibly narrow and led nowhere. Muffled sniffling was coming from the entryway, and the occasional choked sob. With sinking realization, Harry recognized the crying voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, when Harry peeked cautiously around the corner he saw Malfoy, hunched over and clutching a letter in one fist, and covering his mouth with his other hand in an unsuccessful attempt to smother his sobs. As quietly as he could, Harry snuck past the entryway, feeling his stomach go sour as he listened to Malfoy’s crying pick up in intensity. For a moment, Harry paused at the end of the main corridor, unable to turn the corner but uncertain what to do. With a steadying breath, he turned back to the narrow passage where Malfoy was, and pointed his wand at the entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sonus obstructive,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he whispered. The barrier over the entryway shimmered for a moment, and then the hallway was silent. Now nobody would be able to hear Malfoy from the hallway, and Harry hoped that he would be awarded some amount of privacy. He just hoped that Malfoy wouldn’t mind when he found out the barrier was there, or that it wouldn’t dissolve before someone else wandered past. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Harry returned to his dormitory, he collapsed into his bed and willed sleep to come. It may have been exhaustion from running around the whole evening, his lack of sleep the night before, or sheer force of will that allowed him to fall asleep quickly. Harry slept deeply, and the dreams he could remember the next morning were of slogging through thick, sludgy water tinged with blood in an enormous bathroom, while the sound of Malfoy crying echoed off the walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Friday morning, Harry woke early in a cold panic, realizing all at once that he had an essay due in his afternoon class that he had neglected to even start. He glanced at the watch sitting on his bedside table; it was 5:13 AM. Harry groaned quietly and ran his hands through his hair and over his face. He rolled over and threw the covers over his head, curling into a tight ball around his pillow. What felt like an immeasurable amount of time passed, and Harry was still wide awake, despite his best efforts. He rolled back over and checked his watch on the bedside table. 5:22 AM. Harry groaned again. He supposed that he was awake now, and there was little he could do about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving as quietly as he could, Harry gathered his books and a long roll of parchment and a quill, slinking down to the common room to write. He figured he may as well be productive with his time if he had to be awake. The sun crept over the horizon while he wrote sluggishly, lighting the common room with blinding yellow and casting long shadows across the floor. Harry was bitterly unsurprised when he was shaken gently awake by Hermione mere minutes before the start of his first class, and had to peel the parchment off his cheek and run to class with ink and drool on the side of his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After his agonizingly slow Charms class, Harry bolted to the great hall, stole two sandwiches to assuage the gnawing hunger he’d been fighting since missing breakfast that morning, said hello to Ron and Hermione, and then ran straight to the Transfigurations classroom. Bent over his usual desk, he ate with one hand and wrote with the other and managed to get out the rest of his essay with seconds to spare before class began. Headmaster McGonagall was, needless to say, unimpressed by the smudged and clearly rushed essay, but Harry felt satisfied that it was turned in, at least. That did not, however, save him from the disappointment in McGonagall’s voice when she pulled him aside after class to tell him that he was “A bright boy,” and that she “Had expected more of him this year,” and that she “Understood that he was struggling.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so it was with a heavy ball of shame already lodged in his stomach that Harry rushed from his class to his meeting with Madam Batra, which he was almost late for after his scolding from McGonagall. With his nerves already frayed and shame and disappointment already bubbling at the surface, Harry then proceeded to spend the remainder of his early afternoon crying on a couch and talking about Cedric Diggory. By the end of their session, Madam Batra had still not convinced Harry that Cedric’s death was not his fault, but he had at least calmed down a bit. Madam Batra seemed quite worried about him, and made him sit outside her office at the little table by the window nursing a cup of tea before he left the hospital wing. Still, when Harry did finish his tea, he did not, under any circumstances, want to be around any people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Years of being shoved away anytime they had had company, and having no friends to be around during the summers at the Dursleys had resulted in Harry having a strong preference for being alone when he was upset. Months in a tent with little to no privacy had only strengthened that preference. After dealing with more than any person rightfully should have to on a Friday, and grappling with some of his self hatred, Harry had no interest in going back to the common room red faced and sniffling to the concern of his friends, nor did he have any interest in taking the mental energy to mark off any of the passages he was still looking for. He did have quite a bit of interest in finding a nice, quiet, unoccupied corner of the castle to sit in, and in staring out a window for a few hours until his eyes felt less puffy and he thought he could speak without his voice wobbling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were quite a few places in which Harry could do just that near the hospital wing, and Harry set out for the long, narrow room nearby that was lined with windows and boasted a wide view of the grounds and the Forbidden Forest. It was used occasionally as a waiting room for parents and family visiting students in the hospital wing, and so had some comfy sofas and chairs scattered about. The door opened with a click, and Harry began to enter the room, and then as quickly as he had come in recoiled and tripped over his own feet trying to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A giggle erupted from the mass of naked limbs on the sofa in front of him, and a muffled, “Sorry, mate,” as Harry managed to regain his footing, looking away and holding a hand up to shield his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin, sorry,” Harry said as he finally got out of his own way and managed to make his exit. He thanked all of the higher powers he could think of that he hadn’t been able to see who was the owner of the arse he had just gotten an eyeful of, nor whose incredibly hairy thighs had been wrapped around it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now churning with embarrassment and annoyance on top of the shame and exhaustion, Harry stormed off to a nearby storage room, which was filled mostly with broken desks and so would hopefully not contain anyone having sex. Sure enough, when Harry got to the door and pushed it open, the room was silent and dim, aside from the light streaming in from the single window, which offered a less sweeping but still pleasant view of the grounds. Harry sighed and kicked the door closed as he walked to the windowsill, running his hands across his face and pushing his glasses up into his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look awful,” a quiet voice said primly from the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Malfoy, where the hell did you come from?” Harry whirled around, pulling his glasses half onto his face, to see Malfoy sitting on the floor next to the door with his conjured lapdesk and a long roll of parchment in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy shrugged. “I’ve been here for the last two hours, actually,” he said lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry slumped back against the windowsill and put his head in his hands again, allowing himself one loud frustrated groan. He could almost feel Malfoy’s eyes boring holes into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with you?” Malfoy asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had a long </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> day, alright Malfoy?” Harry snapped in response. When he looked up, Malfoy looked a bit taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected such a harsh response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, alright then,” Malfoy said, and started to slowly roll up his parchment. “I suppose I’ll just go, then.” He neatly vanished his lap desk and began stowing things away in his bag. His pale face was blotchy red again, and he seemed to be avoiding Harry's eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Harry said, standing up from where he’d been leaning against the sill. He wobbled a bit, his vision unclear through his now thoroughly smudged glasses. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, and I didn’t mean to intrude. You don’t have to go, I can go sulk somewhere else,” Harry said, trying to get Malfoy to at least stop packing his things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy just shook his head and stood, shouldering his bag. He still wasn’t looking at Harry. “No, it’s fine, I ought to go to dinner anyways,” he paused for a moment and then added, “So should you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Harry said absently. He watched Malfoy turn to leave, unsure what to say. “I’ll... see you later, I guess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy paused with his back to Harry and his hand on the door knob. “Yes, I probably will,” he snorted, and then he closed the door gently behind him, and was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he left, Harry felt nauseated. There were too many emotions happening at once, and they were all vying for space in his body. The odd interaction, which had left Harry feeling like </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the arsehole somehow, only made it worse. Malfoy was so damn… confusing. Sometimes it seemed like he and Harry would be able to have a perfectly civil conversation. Sometimes it seemed like Malfoy wanted nothing to do with him. Sometimes he was still a massive wanker. Strangest of all, sometimes it seemed like he was trying to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>to Harry, or like he was trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>relate </span>
  </em>
  <span>to him. This was all decidedly too much for Harry to deal with on top of everything else that had happened that day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, the sky was dusted with thin clouds and the air looked like it would be crisp and clear if he went out. Harry leaned his elbows on the windowsill, and watched a flock of small birds rise out of the Forbidden Forest and arc through the sky. He breathed deeply, and followed the flock with his eyes. The biggest difference between the sky above Hogwarts and the sky everywhere else was that above Hogwarts, there were never any aeroplane trails. For the first few years, Harry hadn’t been able to figure out why the sky there had felt so different. It wasn’t until he was back in Surrey one summer and staring up at the sky from the nearby park that he had realised how much the aeroplanes affected the clouds, and that they never flew over Hogwarts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tapped his knuckles absently against the glass, watching leaves blow across the ground below him. If Harry was honest with himself, he felt restless. More so than just in the current moment, he felt as if there was some other thing he should be doing but there was… nothing. No killers to catch or orders from Dumbledore, no dreams that were not dreams to parse, no secret training sessions to organize, no Umbridge to fight against. There was just school, and himself. The reality that Harry had never really been just </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself </span>
  </em>
  <span>was one that he tried desperately not to think about for too long. The idea that there had once always been a piece of Voldemort inside of him, with him, living alongside him, was horrifying, and there was no other life-threatening horror to distract him from the fact that he now felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>empty, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he was afraid that what he missed might be the fraction of Voldemort's soul that had lived in him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stood up from leaning against the sill and shook his head vigorously, his hair flying around his forehead. “That’s enough of that,” he muttered to himself. He wasn’t going to feel any better from standing here and ruminating on his fears. He was no longer teetering on the edge of being weepy, but his mind was also not going to clear on its own. A distraction was what he needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry had left his watch in his dormitory, but judging by the darkening sky outside his friends were most likely gathered in the common room getting ready for their Friday night. The eighth year Gryffindors, and Ginny and sometimes Luna, had made an informal tradition of doing something vaguely irresponsible together on Friday nights. It usually involved gambling, some of Luna’s more experimental spells, and once, a bottle of firewhiskey. Even Hermione participated in their weekly rule breaking. Whatever they had planned for the night, Harry intended to participate with his full attention, pushing all thoughts of fear and identity and shame aside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With determination, Harry strode out of the storage room and towards the Gryffindor common room. When he got there, there were only a few fourth years gathered in the common room, so he went right up to the eighth year boys dormitory, which was the usual place they holed up for their night. The room was surprisingly empty when he opened the door, only Ron and Hermione were there, lounging on Ron’s bed and reading. Ron looked up from his letter and Hermione from her book when he walked in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, smiling up at him. “We missed you at dinner, everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry responded by furrowing his brow and slowly walking over to Ron’s bed, plunking down next to his friends and leaning back until he was flat on his back across the bed the short way, his feet still brushing the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rough day, then?” Ron commented, placing his letter on his bedside table and looking down at Harry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno. Yeah, I guess,” Harry sighed. “Where is everyone? I figured you would have already started,” he asked, diverting focus away from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re on a mission to get snacks from the kitchen. Luna had some rather… specific requests, so they probably won’t be back for a while,” Hermione answered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry cocked his head at her. “Why did everyone have to go?” he asked. Surely they weren’t getting so many snacks that they needed that many pairs of arms to carry them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ginny made it into a game,” Ron replied. “Some sort of stealth mission thing. She made some excuse about practicing concealment charms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Harry said. That seemed like something Ginny would do, and that the others would play along with. “And why did you two stay back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just in case you came back,” Hermione answered, matter of factly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps Harry had not recovered entirely from his weepiness earlier in the day. He rolled over so that he was face down on the bed and groaned loudly at his inability to control his emotions. He felt Ron’s large hand rest on his shoulder, moving slightly back and forth in a comforting motion. Hermione had been teaching him about emotional communication and the importance of physical connections when addressing others emotions. It was working. Harry tried very hard not to cry in a way that was audible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong mate, did something happen?” Ron asked gently. </span>
</p><p><span>Harry made a noise of frustration into the quilt. “I just, I dunno, today was a shit</span> <span>day. I was late to everything and McGonnagal did that thing where she was disappointed but understanding at the same time which is just </span><em><span>awful, </span></em><span>and my session with Madam Batra was also awful, and then I think Malfoy was trying to be </span><em><span>nice</span></em><span> to me? But I yelled at him and now </span><em><span>I </span></em><span>feel like the arsehole even though he’s the one who can’t say something nice without making it seem like an insult!” Harry could practically feel his friends sharing a look over top of him.</span></p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like… a lot,” Hermione supplied. “Can I ask, why was Malfoy trying to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>to you?” she said, hesitantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Ron added almost immediately. “Why was he even talking to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sighed and flopped over so that he was looking up at his friends. “I dunno,” he started. “We’ve talked a few times, I guess. He approached me at the beginning of the year to call truce, and then, well… You know how I’ve been going out and trying to figure out what passageways and hiding places are still open around the castle?” Ron and Hermione nodded, still clearly uncertain how this connected to Malfoy. “Well,” Harry continued, “sometimes when I’m out walking around, I run into him. He’s usually just doing his homework or something, and I’d feel rude not saying anything to him, so we’ve talked a bit, not really about anything in particular. And then today, I wanted to be alone after my session with Madam Batra so I went to that storage room that’s by the Hospital Wing, and he was there.” Harry wrinkled his nose at the memory. “He told me I looked awful and then asked what was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong </span>
  </em>
  <span>with me, and I thought he was making fun of me cause I probably looked a mess, but I think he was trying to ask if I was okay? Anyways, I snapped at him and then he left and I felt shitty about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione made a face that Harry knew meant that she wasn’t sure what to say. Ron patted him on the shoulder, awkwardly. Harry agreed with their assessment of his interactions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sat up abruptly and waved his hands around his head. “I dunno!” he said. “I came here because I figured we’d all be doing something tonight and I thought it would be a good distraction because I don’t want to think about this anymore. So anyways! What’s the plan for tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione and Ron seemed to be glad of the change of topic. “We’re not sure yet,” Ron said. “Ginny and Luna have something planned, and it has something to do with that,” he pointed at a large cardboard box sitting on the floor next to Neville’s bed, “which seems ominous,” he concluded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Hermione agreed. She sounded as if she would rather go back to her book than participate in whatever was awaiting them in that box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, the dormitory suddenly exploded with sound as the rest of the group clambered into the room, laden with pastries and giggling madly as they all tried to come into the room at once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry!” Dean greeted him as he tripped over Neville’s leg in the doorway. “Nice of you to join us, mate! We thought you were going to miss the mystery box!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s very exciting,” Ginny added fiendishly, dropping a platter of danishes on the floor and sitting beside it, grabbing one in each hand and munching away. Luna sat next to her, pulling said mystery box onto her lap and smiling demurely. Harry knew the wickedness that pleasant smile could hold, and stared a little anxiously at the box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parvati approached Harry and handed him a plate, which was piled with what he presumed was leftovers from that night’s dinner, protected under a warming charm. “We thought you’d be hungry, since you missed dinner, and the elves said you hadn’t been to the kitchens,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiled at her. His friends really were wonderful sometimes. “Thanks, Parvati,” he said. In truth, he didn’t have much of an appetite, but he took the plate gratefully and nibbled at the food, which he knew would make him feel better. If he couldn’t eat it all he could always just hand it off to Ron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright!” Ginny clapped her hands together once everyone was settled, grinning at everyone mischievously. “Who’s ready to crack this baby open?” she slapped a hand on the top of the box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s do it!” Seamus cried, and the others cheered half heartedly. Harry couldn’t help but smile a little and contribute his own little cry of encouragement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luna, my fair lady, you may do the honor,” Ginny said, bowing at her and gesturing to the box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Ginny,” Luna said softly. “I think we will get a lot of fun out of this,” she added, before raising her wand and using it to slice the tape across the top of the box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone in the room held their breath while Luna opened the box and pulled out it’s contents. She reached her hands in, and when she lifted her arms, she had in them… an enormous, primarily pink box, which advertised that it was a muggle makeup set for children. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room exploded into noise once again. Ginny and Pavarti were both cackling, Ron was groaning loudly, along with Dean. Seamus looked absolutely delighted and was whooping with laughter. Neville didn’t seem to know how to react, and was laughing nervously in the corner. Harry couldn’t help but laugh as well, as Luna calmly and efficiently pulled out eyeshadows, eyeliners, lipsticks, blush, various glosses, and a face paint palette, then arranged them on the floor in front of her, vanishing the packaging as she went so that they were presented with an array of garish pink palettes and tubes of makeup neatly arranged on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neville!” Ginny cried, “Get over here! You’re up first!” Neville balked, but obeyed, sitting cross-legged in front of Ginny and Luna. Both of the girls picked up a tool, and got to work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour later, everyone had decided that Neville looked fantastic in makeup. While Ginny’s side of his face was a little… slapdash, Luna’s side was very elegant, and he wore it well. The results for everyone else were admittedly mixed. Ginny had finished her half of Neville’s face and immediately attacked Ron, who Harry had to admit looked a bit like he was wearing cheap stage makeup, with blue eyeshadow and bright red lipstick. It wasn’t a good look for him. Neville had done Hermione’s face, but instead of making her up, he’d used the face paint kit to paint flowers all over her cheeks. Seamus and Dean had attempted to put makeup on each other at the same time, with loud and disastrous results. Parvati had coached Hermione through doing henna patterns across her eyes, which looked pretty, if a bit messy, and Pavarti was now drawing much more elegant versions of the same designs on Hermione’s hands with bright blue eyeliner, while Ron watched, unsuccessfully disguising the fact that he wanted his hands done next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry had endured a makeover from Luna, who was better at it than some of his other classmates, but had some unique color preferences. His eyelids were bright orange and yellow, and his lips were glittery purple. It was all a bit aggressive. Ginny and Neville had both contributed to Luna's face, but Harry was now sitting cross-legged on the floor and painting Luna’s arms with little doodles of trees and Thestrals and other magical creatures and plants, while she surveyed the results of her plan. Ginny was getting flowers on her cheeks from Neville nearby, but otherwise, Harry and Luna were outside of most of the group, content to quietly doodle and be doodled on while listening in to the others chat about the makeup, their classes, other students, and their families. Harry’s mind was pleasantly blank, and while his face was now unpleasantly sticky feeling, he felt far more calm than he had been so far that day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, it’s okay to just want this,” Luna said quietly to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry started, and his hand twitched, smearing a branch of the whomping willow that he was painting. He rubbed away the smudged paint with his hand. He hadn’t noticed Luna had been looking intently at him for the past few minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry glanced up at her eyes before going back to his painting, adding a blue car on top of the tree. “What do you mean?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think that you need to be doing something more this year,” Luna stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Perhaps it was. “But you don’t. You can just have this, and be happy, and that’s okay,” Luna said softly, gesturing with the arm that Harry wasn’t holding at the room around them. “You don’t always have to be doing something grand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following the movement of Luna’s arm, Harry looked around at his friends. They were all smiling, and they looked absolutely ridiculous, covered in candy-colored childrens makeup, concentrating with absurd seriousness on painting each other with garish colors. They were flopped about the room, food and makeup and everyone’s belongings strewn around carelessly, homework and responsibilities all forgotten, for the moment. They didn’t look like soldiers, or freedom fighters, or prisoners of war; they just looked like kids, doing something stupid and harmless far too late at night on a Friday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Harry said, finishing up the car with two yellow headlights. “Thanks for the reminder,” he added, smiling at Luna and releasing her arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pictures!” Seamus shouted loudly, jumping up from the bed he was sitting on and catching all of their attention at once. “I have a color camera now! We need to take pictures!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room immediately erupted into loud protests and excited shrieks in equal measures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohh, we should do a proper backdrop!” Parvati exclaimed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Hermione said, clapping her hands. She gasped, “We could use the fabric you have, for your dress!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Omigosh yes!” Parvati shouted, clasping Hermione’s hands in hers. “Hermione Granger you continue to be the smartest person I know. Seamus, set up your camera so that we can hang the backdrop from the four-poster frame, right over there. I’ll be right back!” She was out of the room before she had finished her sentence, rushing down the stairs to the girls dormitory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room erupted into chaos as everyone scrambled to prepare the room for the photos. Dean and Seamus set up the camera with a tripod, while Harry helped Neville clean up the area so that there wouldn’t be trays of food and scattered makeup products in the photos. Ginny and Luna adjusted the lighting in the room with direction from Seamus. Parvati came back holding a folded square of bright pink and orange fabric with a pretty floral patterning, which Hermione and Ron tossed over the top of the frame of the bed so that it draped elegantly down to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay okay, the ladies of the hour first!” Seamus declared, beckoning Ginny and Luna to be the first to stand in front of the backdrop and have their photo taken. They took photos until Seamus ran out of film, each getting an individual shot and loads of group shots as well. Hermione even charmed Harry’s hair purple, to match his lipstick, for a few of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Days later, Seamus developed the photos and gave each of them a stack of five by seven prints of all the photos they were in. They weren’t moving photos, which confused some of them, but Seamus had developed a fondness for muggle film cameras. The boys hung them up all over the dormitory, sticking them to the walls and on their bedposts. A particularly frightening close up of Ron, which everyone had received a print of, made the rounds of being left on pillowcases, snuck inside of textbooks, and levitated over each other's faces early in the morning before they woke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stuck one of himself, Ron, and Hermione up just above his bedside table, so when he put his glasses on in the morning he saw it. It wasn’t the most flattering photo; Harry’s hair was a purple rat’s nest, Ron’s lipstick had migrated across his cheek, and Hermione was in the middle of a laugh but admittedly looked like she was about to sneeze. Harry carefully wrote the date on the back of the photo, and put a protection charm over it so it wouldn’t get dusty or scratched. Slowly, his restlessness began to fade. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm not sure why this chapter was so hard for me to write, but it's finally done! I did have a lot of fun writing the shenanigans at the end, so I hope ya'll enjoyed it! The next few should be a little quicker since I already have some big parts of them written. Hopefully I can get at least one more out before I start my new job and all my free time vacates my life. If you'd like to see more of my art and such, feel free to give me a follow over @p-atricapillus on tumblr!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>